


Safe & Sound

by Shewolf_of_highgarden



Series: The Road to Recovery is a Long One (But At Least I Got a Killer Playlist) [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Discussions of War, F/M, Gen, Hand Tyrion, King Jon Snow, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, Scribe Missandei, children starving, everyone is working through some stuff, mistress of whispers arya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:16:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25530451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shewolf_of_highgarden/pseuds/Shewolf_of_highgarden
Summary: In which starved children compare notes
Relationships: Jon Snow & Arya Stark, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Missandei & Arya Stark, Missandei & Daenerys Targaryen
Series: The Road to Recovery is a Long One (But At Least I Got a Killer Playlist) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744771
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	Safe & Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Just close your eyes, the sun is going down  
> You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now  
> Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound  
> \- Taylor Swift

The wedding of Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen had been a sparse affair. Men and women, ragged from starvation and war and the harsh elements that came with winter had gathered around them as stood before a large raging fire. They shooed none away, be it smallfolk or peasant or wilding or knight or lord or lady. They had stood before each other next to a fire that had taken taken the better part of the day (or what passed for day anymore) to build to keep aflame with Melissandre speaking of her Lord of Light. Snow had fallen and the people had shivered, but they had been given an extra hunk of brown bread and sip of ale in celebration. Or what had passed as celebration. There had been no dancing or singing or mummers or fire breathers or seventy-seven courses. But they’d had each other in that dark night and that was better than anything Daenerys could have thought of. That memory had been a spark of light in the darkness as they fought the Others and had kept her brave while she danced with Aegon the Pretender.

She had her people to protect, she had her husband to protect.

…

_“Jon, will you share your fire with Daenerys and warm her when the night is dark and full of terrors?”_

_“I swear it. By the red god’s flames, I warm her all her life.”_

_“Daenerys, will you share your fire with Jon and warm him when the night is dark and full of terrors?”_

_“I swear it. By the red god’s flames, I warm him all my life.”_

_“Then come to me and be as one.”_

_…_

They never redid their wedding. There had been talks of having an official ceremony in the Great Sept, one presided over by the High Septon and attended by the lords and ladies of Westeros. Dany had declined this idea, however. There was too much to do and too much tor rebuild. The Riverlands were still trying to come to life after the War of the Five Kings and the winter that had followed, hoping that there would be an actual harvest this year that would go unburnt or unwilted. The North had to rebuild after the Battle of the Dawn and wait for the final dregs to winter to pass. There was no means of anyone important leaving the Vale after the instability left in the wake of Peytr Baelish and death of little Robyn Arryn. Even the Reach needed time to recover from the war with Euron Greyjoy. There was neither the means nor the time for weddings.

When a year had passed, however, Tyrion had suggested an anniversary feast that could be celebrated throughout the city. Lords and ladies of Westeros would descend upon the city with their coins and gifts and schemes. They

As hesitant Dany had been to have this feast, in the end she is glad that her council had talked her into it. She is happy to watch her people be happy, especially those so close to her. Jon sits next to her contentedly, a hand resting on her knee as he watches the mummers play before them with the hints of a smile playing on his face. On his other side sits Arya, leaning over every so often to talk to Missandei as the two nibble on pieces of Riverland’s marzipan and Dornish spiced nuts from trays before them. Dany is not close enough to hear them over the mummers and the bards, but she pretends that they are giggling over the handsome lad playing King Jaehaerys. Knowing the two of them it is unlikely, but the thought is still a nice one. Arya is only slightly more expressive with her happiness than her elder brother is and it is nice to see her good-sister acting as a young woman her age.

Mayhap it was the responsibility heaped upon her combined with what happened to her before she found Jon again. Dany did not know much of what occurred before Arya found Jon, only that they had been separated and Arya spent time in Braavos before. She does remember, however, having reservations about Arya’s addition to the small council. At five-and-ten she was probably the youngest Mistress of Whispers in the history of the Small Council. Dany had thought her a bit young for the job, no matter what Jon said and no matter how helpful she had been in the fight against Cersei Lannister. She did not much ground to stand hold on that argument, however.

Much of Westeros was being run by those younger than five and twenty. It did not help that Missandei also served on the council and was a similar age to Arya. She could not dismiss Arya based on her age and not do the same to Missandei. Besides Jon was determined to have his sister near and giving her a council seat was the best way to ensure she would not grow restless in the city. This argument had been in the early time of their marriage, one where they were actually allowed to be around each other for more than a few hours before a war meeting or an actual battle. If giving Jon’s sister a reason to stay in the city would make her marriage bed peaceful, then she would comply. She is grateful that she has yet to regret her decision.

She does regret agreeing to this feat, though. Or, more accurately, she regrets having certain houses come to the feast. While most families either only sent a representative or a gift of some kind, some decided to do both. House Tyrell, namely, decided to overdo it. Dany looked at the food in front of her with unease. There was food from all over Westeros, but none was more bountiful than the food from the Reach. Fruits and breads and fish and meat and wine. At least three foods from House Tyrell themselves sat upon each table, high or low.

The Tyrells fed the people of Westeros once and now they have returned to do it again. Dany tries not to grimace.

“If you glare at the food like that, it may run from you, my queen.” Jon says with a chuckle beside her.

Dany feels her cheeks go warm at getting caught.

“I wish they had not brought so much. It overwhelms even our means.” Dany confides softly.

But not softly enough for her Lord Hand not to overhear.

“They have food, aye. But they have no dragons.”

“Dragons are good for protection, but not for food.”

“Tyrell gifts all come at a price.” Tyrion says, even as he sips their wine.

“I’ll take Tyrell bread, over worms.” Arya says, having been pulled into their conversation at some point.

“We had to ration during the Long Night, sweet sister, but I do not remember you having to resort to worms,” Jon says warmly, ruffling his sister’s hair. Though his efforts are rather thwarted by the bronze and iron circlet in her hair.

“No, brother, no worms during the rationing. I ate worms in the Riverlands, on the road to the Twins.” Arya explains, reaching up to ruffle her brother’s hair in response.

Jon’s face falls. Arya does not speak of it often, at least not in Dany’s presence, but when she does tell Jon it typically goes like this. No matter how many times Arya explains that there was nothing Jon could have done, the guilt remains.

…

_“There was nothing you could do for her. She’s told you so.”_

_“It does not matter. She is my little sister; it is my duty to protect her and I didn’t.”_

_“You died for her.”_

_“And yet she suffered.”_

_…_

She wonders if Viserys would have been the same. A part of her, a part that is still a little girl, thinks that in a different life he would have. He would have felt guilt over not protecting her well enough. That is the big brother she had wanted, had needed. And he had been…for a time. In the end Viserys lost himself to madness. Jon is much of what Viserys wasn’t and she loves him for it.

“Was better than the mud Weasel ate.” Arya says with a shrug, popping a blackberry into her mouth, the red juice staining her fingers.

“Who is Weasel?” Missandei asks, somewhere between amused and aghast.

“A little girl, about two I think, who traveled with us for a time. When the Mountain and his companions captured us, I made her run away.”

“Why did she eat mud?”

“Nothing to eat,’ Arya says with a shrug, ‘The Lannister men burnt most of it and the Northerns burnt what was left closer to the Neck.”

Dany can feel a heat rising in her. She can picture this all too well. A little girl leading an even littler girl through a battle zone. The lords and knights so uncaring that they burnt the land so children would starve. And they knew. They knew people were going hungry. She had spent so much time laboring what do over Meereen and whether she could truly leave them nothing to eat while men like Tywin Lannister let their people starve with little thought or care.

“The Grand Masters did the same on the road to Meereen.” Missandei says, moving the food in front of her around.

“Did you eat worms too?” Arya asks, a slight smile playing on her lips.

“No, no worms. Horse, mostly.”

“I thought the Dothraki do not kill their horses unless it is for funerals.”

“Then you understand how dire the circumstances were. We barely had any water for them in that desert anyway.”

…

_“They are starving, Jorah.”_

_“If we keep them all then we will all starve.”_

_“I cannot leave my children to die.”_

_…_

“I’ve had horse,’ Jon says after a moment, ‘It’s not all that bad.”

“When did you eat horse?” Arya asks.

“Beyond the Wall, we had little else for a time.”

“No shadow cats?”

“Nay, no shadow cat.” Jon says with a chuckle.

Arya gives an exaggerated look of disappointment with that along with a deep sigh, as if her brother has disappointed her with his lack of creative food sources.

“Khalessi ate horse heart once.” Missandei offers up and all eyes turn to Dany. Jon knows this tale, but it is a new to Arya judging by the curiosity in her eyes.

“Aye, I did.” Dany agrees, pride in her voice. She can look back rather fondly on that moment now and even if it is not quite fondness then it is with understanding. It is one of her defining moments. She ate it, she overcame it, just as she has overcome every other hurdle put before her.

“Why?” Arya asks.

“It is a Dothraki wedding custom.”

If Arya is surprised to learn that Dany had been married before, it does not show on the girl’s face. Jon probably told her at some point. From what Dany has gathered there is very little that Jon Snow does not tell his little sister. Dany may be head of the small council and head of Westeros, but the children of Stark act as each other’s advisers. It has taken some time for Dany to find her place when the two are together. Jon and Arya tend to create their own little world, a remnant from childhood where they were each other’s worlds, and at times it feels like an intrusion to be around them. Dany gives them space. But she will not be made to feel separate from her husband.

They are all working on it.

…

“ _Jon says you are wroth with us.”_

_“No. I am annoyed with Jon.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I see so little of him; it is as if we are not wed. I do not wish to take a brother from you, I simply wish to have a husband as well.”_

_“…I will talk to him for you.”_

_“No, Arya, you will not. This is an issue for Jon and I, just us. Do you understand?”_

_The girl chews her lip quietly and gives no answer._

_“Do you understand, Arya?”_

_“Yes, your grace, I understand.”_

_…_

“What did it taste like?”

“Gods, no. Don’t,’ Tyrion chimes in with a gag, ‘I’d like to keep my quail down.”

“I did not take you for tender bellied, my lord hand.” Jon says, amused.

“Too much meat around, I won’t be able to stomach it.”

“The Tyrell host brought a variable feast.” Dany says, glancing to the dancers now occupying the floor. Among them she can see the little once-queen spinning in the crowd. Margaery Tyrell has been thrice betrothed, twice wed, and has lost all three of her loves. Dany can relate to the girl’s plight. A comradery based on dead lovers, though, does not stop the unease in having the former queen in this castle.

It had not been Dany’s intent to have the woman here at all. When they had invited House Tyrell, Dany had assumed that Mace Tyrell and his wife along with a few knights and favored household servants would come. Instead she met most of the family except for the heir. Mace had brought along his wife, as expected, but also brought his second eldest son, his good daughter, and his once-queen daughter.

There had been much debate over what to do with her after the wars. The original plan had been to have Margaery Tyrell sent to live the rest of her life with the silent sisters or as a septa. If she’d had a babe in her belly the child would have been raised under close eye at the court and if a boy until old enough to be sent to the North and if a girl sent off to be a septa. But Mace Tyrell had begged, or at least what the Tyrells considered to be begging, that his daughter be allowed to remain at High Garden. She would wed no one and would spend the rest of her days there. Knowing that they needed the Reach and keeping their part in the defeat of Euron Greyjoy, as well as knowing that she had allowed the same arrangement to be made for Myrcella Baratheon (though she would be held in Casterly Rock), Dany had agreed.

Then Margaery Tyrell showed up in the capital.

Dany had been tempted to imprison them where they stood. It took a lot of gall to ignore an edict from the crown, it screamed of a challenge. And after fighting so hard to reclaim her home and her place within it, she was in no mood for challenges. But the Tyrells were a crafty bunch. They entered the city much as Tyrion said they had entered years ago, handing out bread and alms. Visiting with orphans and speaking to the smallfolk as they made their way to the Red Keep. To imprison them would only mean war with the Reach and unhappy smallfolk were not something they could afford right now.

Spring had come and with it the hope for peace and mercy. She would start another war that could leave her people starving, should House Tyrell decide to close the Rose Road. Dany did, however, ask her good sister to keep an especially close eye on them. She would also have a conversation with Lord Tyrell before their host spoke and talk of recompense. She would not imprison them, but fines and a reminder of who ruled was certainly in order.

“As they should have,’ Jon says, some of the humor leaving him, ‘They certainly brought enough people. Half the city cannot get food and yet we must feed their host.”

“Worst comes to worst, we’ll feed them the brown.” Arya says with a conspiratorial smile.

“I’ve had enough brown to last me a lifetime,” Tyrion grumbles.

Tyrion’s comment got more than one nod in response. During the Long Night, it did not matter if you were royal or street urchin, you ate the same. Brown was served more times than Dany could count and at the time it was considered a treat.

“I don’t miss brown, but I do miss oysters from Braavos,” Arya muses.

“I still dream of Naath wine,” Missandei says quietly.

“I’ve never cared much for wine.”

“You’d like it, I’d think. Its spiced like your hippocras, but sweeter.”

“Mmmm. So, we’ll get Naathi wine and Braavosi oysters and have a feast of our own.”

Dany listens to the two girls plan out their imaginary feast with a smile, Jon and Tyrion adding their own additions every now and then. Her worries about the Tyrells, fading as she listened.

“What about you, my queen? What would you add to this feast?”

Dany thinks on it. Sometimes she gets cravings for figs and dates. She wishes for a lemon from the tree in front of the red door. But she could live without all of those things. She had been hungry for so long. Hungry for love. Hungry for home. Hungry for justice. Now she sits in the feasting hall of the Red Keep, having claimed her birth right. Her people are not yet healed, but they are healing. The sun rises and the fields are starting to bear fruit. In her halls there is dancing and laughter and, in her bed, there are secret smiles and soft words. If Dany craves anything then it is for this peace to last. For her people to continue to heal. To spend the rest of her life with the husband she chose for herself.

She looks at the expectant faces looking at her. At Missandei who had been by her side unfailingly for so long. A brave little girl who grew into a brave young woman. At Arya who had become a part of her family, even if they were still trying to figure out what their relationship would be. At Tyrion who became a close advisor and a combatant by turns. Finally, she looks at Jon. The last husband she would ever have. A man whose love for his family and his people made her love him all the more. A man who after this feast who will share her bed and the rest of her days. 

“I have nothing to add, husband, I am full.”


End file.
